


forever ahead of us

by sodelicate



Series: your voice in my dreams (soulmates AU) [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Childhood Sweethearts, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Obliviously in love, Romantic Soulmates, Slow Burn, Soulmates, kuroo is so clueless it hurts, literally EVERYONE knows kuroo is in love with kenma except kuroo, not actually platonic soulmates, side/background levyaku, take a shot every time kuroo says he and kenma are 'platonic' soulmates, yaku is best mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 07:31:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16677271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodelicate/pseuds/sodelicate
Summary: “He figures they're the platonic kind of soulmates. Those are rare, making up only maybe 3% of the population in Japan, but they exist nonetheless and he can't help but think,That's probably us, then. He’s a quiet guy, but I would've noticed if he’s interested in me, like, romantically. And it’s not like I'm interested in him like that, either, I think.”Oh, how wrong he is.In which Kuroo unknowingly falls in love with his ‘platonic’ soulmate over the years, only to realise they're not as platonic as he thought they were.





	forever ahead of us

“Kuro, you're tickling me.”

Kuroo grins up at Kenma’s unamused expression. “What, when I do this?” He nuzzles his head into Kenma’s lap for emphasis, earning himself a small scowl.

“Yes,” Kenma says without looking away from the game console in his hands. “I can't concentrate on beating the boss if you keep tickling me like that.”

“Hmph, so fussy,” Kuroo teases, but he gets up from his (admittedly comfortable) position to sit next to Kenma instead of resting in his lap.

Kuroo Tetsurou considers himself to be a lucky guy. Unlike many people, he's known _his_ soulmate ever since they were kids. He still remembers their first meeting all those years ago, when they were both shy awkward kids hiding behind their parents. They stared warily at each other, waiting for the other to say something first and break the tense silence.

And when the other boy mumbled “I—I'm Kenma”, it was like everything fell into place. This was his soulmate whose voice he struggled to even catch in his dreams for the worse part of his childhood. For a while, he had been absolutely convinced he didn't even _have_ a soulmate. It wasn't until he was six when he finally heard his soulmate’s voice: “No thanks… I’d rather stay inside.” Normally, most people heard their soulmate’s voice by the time they were three, and most of the time, the kind of things they heard were things their other half said during the day—random mundane things, like declaring they needed to use the potty or what they'd like to have for dinner.

Later, when Kuroo did his research (as best a prepubescent kid could research, anyway), he found out that when people were particularly withdrawn and/or introverted, it would take a longer time than usual for their soulmate to hear their voice. So he didn't have anything to worry about.

They never actually talked about it. Kuroo supposes there's always been a mutual understanding between them—that they're bound for life with forever ahead of them—so there really is no need for words. Kenma seems content with their current relationship, just chilling in Kuroo’s bedroom and playing his video games while Kuroo tells him about his day, asks him about his day, or does his homework. Or sometimes all three. The both of them are good multitaskers. And if Kenma is content, then so is Kuroo. He's happy with what they have, and there's nothing he’d want to change. 

 

* * *

 

And so, the years go on. They stay close friends, attending the same middle school after graduating from elementary school, heading to school together in the morning, practising volleyball together after school, and returning home together in the evening. Maybe Kuroo is being a little clingy, but what does he care? He and Kenma are in different years, and since class time takes up majority of their day, they only get to spend a small window of time together on weekdays. Even if he's used to this arrangement, he still finds himself missing Kenma when he's in the middle of a boring math class.

(It’s not like he can't function _at all_ without Kenma—he can, just fine. But when they're not together, it feels like a small but extremely vital part of him has been separated from him, and he won't be 100% fine until he's reunited with that small but extremely vital part.)

They're hanging out in Kenma’s room after school as they usually do, and this time they get to spend together is very precious. Even if Kenma prefers to spend it playing his game. Still, Kuroo doesn't mind it. He's just happy to get to spend any time with his soulmate.

He peeks over Kenma’s shoulder to get a good look at his game. “You're still stuck at that level?”

“Mmm, the boss keeps one-shotting my team,” Kenma replies. His eyes, normally impassive, are now bright with a keen interest, like he's picking apart everything in the universe of his game, analysing it, and planning the best way to turn the situation to his favour. Kuroo has seen this expression before during volleyball, when Kenma is busy turning the opposing team inside-out to identify all their weaknesses, as well as the strengths he can turn into weaknesses. Kuroo’s always been fascinated by how sharp and quick his mind is. He considers himself to be a smart guy, but his (platonic, super platonic) soulmate is on a whole different level, and he admires him for it (platonically, of course).

But there's also a hint of frustration hidden beneath all the cool analytical layers, and Kuroo becomes full-alert. If someone as impassive and indifferent as Kenma is getting frustrated at something, then Kuroo’s going to help him. Even if he knows nothing about video games. All that matters is that Kenma is struggling with something he normally enjoys (one of the few things he openly enjoys), and Kuroo wants to help him in any way he can.

Despite not being into video games himself, Kuroo has spent enough time with Kenma to figure out the jargon associated with that brand of entertainment. “Sounds rough. Hmm… Say, you got that special item from that beard-y dude in the previous town, didn't you?”

For once when he's playing, Kenma looks up at him with interest. “Yeah… what about it?”

“That item increases your, er, attack stat, right?”

“Special attack,” Kenma corrects.

“Yeah, yeah, that's what I meant,” Kuroo says, the gears in his head spinning at a hundred miles per hour. He may not have Kenma’s game sense or experience when it comes to video games, but damn him if he's gonna let them stop him from helping anyway. “So give it to your strongest attacker—special attacker, I mean, and rotate that guy to the front of your party.”

Kenma frowns ever so slightly (Kuroo thinks it’s cute—platonically!). “But if I do that, he won't be able to hold the elixir, and the elixir is very useful for helping him recover HP during fights.”

“Well, er, yeah, there is—that,” Kuroo says haltingly. “But I was thinking…”

He explains his surprisingly intricate plan to Kenma—he's totally making it up by the seat of his pants as he goes—who gets it without needing further clarification. In fact, he might even be forming his own strategy based on Kuroo’s ideas.

Kenma returns to his video game, now with a new strategy for victory in his pocket. Kuroo makes himself more comfortable on Kenma’s bed, spreading his legs wide open. To keep himself occupied while Kenma is busy fighting the final boss, he glances around the room, as if this isn't the millionth time he's been in Kenma’s bedroom. Kenma’s desk is sparse, with only a small mug holding a ballpoint pen and two blunt pencils, as well as a thin notebook on it. His curtains are drawn, even though Kuroo is positive his mother opened them when Kenma was at school. His walls, just like his desk, are mostly bare, with only a few video game-related posters on them. It’s such a stark contrast to Kuroo’s own room—his walls are more posters of idols and volleyball players than actual paint, and his desk, while somewhat organised for a fourteen-year-old boy, has more stationery and notebooks and random pieces of paper on it than Kenma's—that he can't help but chuckle a little.

“What’re you laughing about?” Kenma asks.

“Oh, nothing,” Kuroo replies smoothly. “Continue with your game, don't let me stop you.”

“Mmm, okay.” Kenma’s attention returns to his game.

And that's how their usual interactions go. Kuroo wouldn't change a thing about their current arrangement.

 

* * *

 

A few more years fly by, and now they're in high school, Kuroo in his second year and Kenma in his first. He manages to convince (read: beg) Kenma to join the volleyball team with him.

Everything is as it was in middle school. Kenma puts in the bare minimum of effort required for practice, grumbles under his breath about having to run laps and purposely lags behind the rest. Still, he turns up and participates, so there's nothing Kuroo would change.

Until one day, when he realises there are some things in desperate need of change.

It begins when they're walking home after training one evening, and Kenma drops the bomb on him.

“Kuro, I want to quit the team.”

Kuroo nearly chokes on his drink. “Pardon?”

Kenma’s bangs hide his face from view. “I said, I want to quit the team.”

“I don't—huh? Wait, I don't understand,” Kuroo stammers, completely thrown for a loop. “What do you mean you want to _quit_ the team?” 

Because this can't be happening. While he's well aware of the fact that Kenma doesn't particularly _like_ volleyball, not the way Kuroo likes it, he knows Kenma needs it, whether he realises it or not. Volleyball keeps Kenma active. Volleyball brings Kenma out of his shell. Volleyball makes sure Kenma doesn't withdraw into himself.

And volleyball gives Kuroo precious time to spend with Kenma.

And he wants to throw all that away?

“Why?” he asks, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible. If he sounds judgemental, Kenma would probably withdraw even more.

“I'm not needed,” Kenma says simply, and Kuroo can _feel_ his heart split cleanly in two at his words. “The third-year senpai make sure I know that.”

Kuroo’s core clenches with barely suppressed fury. “How—what did they do to you? Did… did they _hurt_ you, Kenma?”

“It happens when you're not around,” Kenma mumbles. To anyone else, he would’ve sounded indifferent, but Kuroo can detect a glimmer of something like hurt in his cool voice. “They call me names. They say I'm lazy, that they don't need a lazy waste of space on the team, that I could just leave the team and there wouldn't be any difference—”

Kuroo has heard enough. He stops dead in his tracks, grabs Kenma’s arm, and pulls him flush against him, wrapping his arms tightly around him. Ostensibly, it’s to comfort Kenma. But in reality, if he doesn't keep himself occupied, he might just march right to where those damned third-years are and beat the shit out of them (never mind that he doesn't even know where they are or where they live). And he knows Kenma is indifferently neutral about physical contact, so the comfort of the hug is more for his own sake, really.

“Kuro?” Kenma asks, muffled against Kuroo’s chest.

“I—” There are so many things Kuroo wants to say. He's upset, he's angry, and he's also guilty. “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have left you alone—I should've known. I'm so sorry, Kenma, I should have been there for you.”

Kuroo can't see Kenma’s face, but if he could, he figures Kenma would be rolling his eyes. “You couldn't have known, ‘cause I didn't tell you.”

“Why? Why wait till now to tell me that the senpai were being assholes to you?” It hurts Kuroo, it hurts him on such a profound, personal level, to think of Kenma suffering in silence all this time.

“It’s not as bad as you think it is,” Kenma huffs quietly. “It’s just—I didn't want to make it a big deal. ‘Cause it’s not. Besides, the team has a third-year setter, so it’s not like I’m nee—”

“Don't finish that sentence. No, don't you dare, hush. It _is_ a big deal, because you're important, okay? It doesn't matter if there already is another setter on the team—there's no way in hell he's better than you. He can suck ass for all I care. _You_ matter, the first and second-years know that.  _I_ know that. And I'm sorry I couldn't—I can't do anything about the senpai.” Because Kuroo, with all his provocation and schemes, still has to obey the pecking order omnipresent in sports clubs. He leans down slightly to rest his chin on top of Kenma’s head as he murmurs, “But I promise you, when they leave, I _will_ make sure everyone knows how crucial you are. I will do everything in my power, and everything beyond it too. Promise. So please—please stay. I promise, everything’s gonna be okay.”

Kenma pushes away from his chest, and to Kuroo’s surprise, he looks up at him with the barest of hint of a smile on his face. “Dummy, I told you, you don't have to make a big deal out of this.”

“But I want to. I got to. That's what I'm here for.”

_That's what soulmates are for._

 

* * *

 

Kuroo works himself down to the bone during practice. He always makes sure that he arrives early, that he's the first (or at least, one of the first) to volunteer to clean up or run errands, that he gives his 300% during practice and games.

And his hard work finally pays off when the third-years leave after the Interhigh Preliminaries ( _Good fucking riddance,_ he savagely thinks to himself) and he's appointed Captain.

But his work isn't done. Now that the club is more or less in his control, he has to make it a place for his soulmate.

He achieves this using several lucrative methods, the one he's most proud of being his (in)famous ‘brain speech’ he delivers before games.

“We’re like the blood in our veins,” he announces during their pre-game huddle. “We must flow without stopping. Keep the oxygen moving, so that the brain can function at his best.”

Kenma never fails to remind him about how lame he thinks the whole spiel is. But Kuroo doesn't care, because it yields results. Everyone defers to Kenma’s instructions when he's done analysing the other team, never questioning him. No one leaves him behind even when he's lagging behind when they're doing laps. Yamamoto encourages Kenma to keep running and pushes him to do more during physical conditioning. (Not that it works, but Kuroo appreciates the thought.) No one judges Kenma for withdrawing after practice. They include him as much as they can, but respectfully leave him to his own devices (figuratively and literally) when it’s clear he isn't interested in any more social interaction.

Kuroo is proud of what he has made of his team, of the space he has lovingly (totally platonic-like) curated for Kenma. He's proud that they have come to accept and value Kenma the way he does.

And most of all, he's proud of Kenma for sticking around.

“Here,” Kuroo announces. He saunters into Kenma’s bedroom like it’s his (and at this point, it practically is) and proudly brandishes a small plastic box of Kenma’s favourite apple pie. “For you.”

Kenma glances up for a brief moment before returning to his game. “What's the occasion?”

Kuroo chuckles as he ruffles Kenma’s hair. “What, I can't spontaneously buy apple pie for you? You've been a real trooper and asset to the team, so I thought I’d treat you.”

“You didn't have to.” But Kenma looks up again, longer this time, with a small smile dancing at the corners of his lips. “Thanks, anyway. I’ll eat it after I clear this level.”

“Anytime.”

Kuroo places the box down on Kenma’s bedside table before taking his usual spot next to Kenma on his bed. It’s so familiar and so domestic, like he's coming home after a long day.

(And, in a way, it is. Because while he knows his house is next door, his home is wherever Kenma is, as cheesy as it is to admit that.)

(And he means that in a 100% platonic way, of course. Like, he's pretty sure girls refer to their BFFs as their ‘home’ too. It’s not _that_ weird.)

Kuroo looks around, and his wandering gaze falls on the open door. He won't admit it, but he feels a small prickling of heat in his cheeks. He can't help it, okay—both their parents insist on them keeping their bedroom doors open whenever one of them goes over to hang out at the other’s place. Even though they never actually _said_ the reason why, Kuroo isn't an idiot. They're soulmates, and everyone knows what most soulmates are like, _especially_ when you factor in the fact that they're teenagers and thus have this horrible disease called hormones. Kuroo thinks it’s stupid, since neither of them has expressed any desire to consummate their relationship.

He figures they're the platonic kind of soulmates. Those are rare, making up only maybe 3% of the population in Japan, but they exist nonetheless and he can't help but think, _That's probably us, then. He’s a quiet guy, but I would've noticed if he’s interested in me, like, romantically. And it’s not like I'm interested in him like that, either, I think._

(But he asks anyway, because what harm can it cause?

“Hey Kenma, would you ever want to go on a date with me?” Kuroo asks in a lazy drawl.

Kenma just shrugs, not looking up from his game console. And Kuroo figures that's answer enough for him. Platonic, that's what they are. And he's fine with that.)

Kuroo doesn't realise how wrong he is about his last statement until he's well into his third year of high school.

 

* * *

 

When other people gush about falling in love, it’s always this big dramatic “a-HA” moment with imaginary streamers and fireworks and other cool movie effects going off in the background.

For Kuroo, it’s nothing like that. No special movie effects, no sky splitting open above him, no booming voice from the heavens declaring his destiny, no clap of thunder or flash of lightning.

It’s more like a small flame dancing on the tip of a candle. It starts out small, and maybe even unnoticeable, but before he realises it he's completely entranced by the tiny flame. It burns slowly, almost teasingly slowly, until it’s ensnared the entirety of his being while he remains utterly oblivious to the fact. 

It starts out innocuously enough.

He meets Kenma at the lift lobby of their apartment so they can walk to the train station together, as they always do in the morning, as they always have done since they were kids. Upon seeing Kenma dressed in his usual school uniform (because what else would he be wearing, duh), the first thing that comes to Kuroo’s mind is, _Huh, has he always been so pretty?_

He shakes his head, missing the odd look Kenma gives him. No, it’s just the hair dye. He just hasn't gotten used to Kenma with blond hair. He has to admit it’s a good look, though.

He can't take his eyes off Kenma’s newly dyed hair, glowing like precious gold under the light of the morning sun, throughout their whole commute to school. He wants to touch it. He wants to meticulously run his fingers through it, to memorise the feeling of each strand against his calloused fingertips.

(But he holds himself back, because he's pretty sure platonic soulmates don't do that.)

He doesn't even think it’s anything weird when he heads to the cafeteria during lunch, spots some apple pie being sold as a Friday Special and says absentmindedly to himself, “Kenma would like that”, until Yaku points it out.

“Platonic soulmates, my ass,” Yaku pronounces, pointing his bread roll at Kuroo like a sword. “We can't take you _anywhere_ without something or another reminding you of Kenma.”

“I didn't know you paid so much attention to what I said, Yaku-paisen,” Kuroo drawls, trying to hide his surprise, because what the heck is  _that_ supposed to mean? “And after our bitter rivalry in our first year. I'm so touched.”

Yaku snorts derisively. “That rivalry was entirely _your_ fault— _I_ barely remembered what happened when we met in middle school. Kai, back me up here,” he adds, turning to their fellow third-year. “Tell this scheming bastard how head-over-heels he is for his _‘platonic’_ soulmate.”

“Kuroo does seem to be particularly attached to Kenma-kun,” Kai says diplomatically.

“Well, even besides for the fact we’re basically bound by destiny for life,” Kuroo explains, trying to conceal the frantic thudding of his heart against his ribs, “we’ve been friends for _ever_. Of course I care about him and pay attention to what he likes.”

“Good grief, Kuroo,” Yaku says exasperatedly. “You're a third-year in high school, a captain of a sports team, in a _college prep_ class, and always scheming about one thing or another—one would think you'd be more self-aware than this. No, let me illustrate this for you, alright?” He puts his bread down and rummages around his bag before pulling out a mini whiteboard and a marker. He turns it so the white part faces Kuroo and uncaps his marker, starting to draw something like a line scale on it.

“Seriously, Yaku?” Kuroo, unable to help himself, snorts. “You bring a _portable whiteboard_ to school? That's fucking precious.”

“It’s in case I need to explain painfully obvious things to especially dimwitted people,” Yaku retorts. He labels the left end of the scale _mildly caring_ and the right end _putting them before self_. On the left-most end, he makes a small vertical marking and labels it: _acquaintance_. “This is the _acquaintance_ level. This end of the spectrum is when you only have a small, passing interest in the person’s affairs—”

“I _know_ what acquaintance means,” Kuroo snaps, now getting slightly annoyed. “What's your point?”

Yaku bristles, promptly ignores Kuroo and continues making markings on his scale, until there are seven markings with only the first two labelled. “Don't interrupt me, I wasn't done talking. Anyway, as I was _saying_ , the first degree of caring is the _acquaintance_ , whom you only have a trivial interest in, mostly because of circumstances that have placed you together. Then we progress on to the _friend_.” He taps the second marking with his marker. “You begin to have a deeper care for them. You start to become invested in them, but not to such a great extent as you still don't know them all that well.”

“God, get on with it,” Kuroo groans. “Kai, tell him how much his lecture sucks.”

“I don't know,” Kai admits, zen as ever. “The scale looks very illuminating, and not to mention Yaku’s thorough explanation too. I am interested in hearing more.”

Yaku smirks smugly at Kuroo. “The next two stages are the _close friend_ and the _best friend_ , and the latter is what you _think_ you are with Kenma.” He labels the corresponding markings, inching noticeably towards the right end of the scale. “It’s a fine line between the two, but there _is_ a difference. The difference is the level of trust and intimacy—you might tell your best friend stuff you might not tell someone who's just a close friend. Stuff like deep, personal secrets about your past, or maybe even a dead body you need help hiding.”

“Yakkun is so morbid,” Kuroo jabs, pleased when Yaku’s eyebrow twitches.

“ _Anyway,_ ” Yaku says pointedly, “it’s clear that in terms of level of trust and intimacy, you and Kenma are on the best friend level. But this is not a trust scale—this is a scale of how much you like and care about a person, so there are still more levels after _best friend._ ”

“Can we stop here?” Kuroo pleads. “My parents already gave me the sex talk when I was, like, twelve, and I _definitely_ don't need to hear it from a guy who's my volleyball teammate.”

“The ones after _best friend_ are _infatuation_ and _romantic_ _interest_ ,” Yaku steamrolls on, like he didn't hear Kuroo (that bastard, Kuroo’s going to get back at him later). “I’m just gonna skip those two, because you've obviously surpassed them.” And he writes under the final, rightmost label: _love_. “ _This_ is where you're at.” He taps _love_ for emphasis, as if Kuroo doesn't already know what he's trying to get at.

“Ah, but your scale is flawed, mother,” Kuroo says, grinning languidly. “There are many forms of love, no? In fact, according to Sternberg’s triangular theory of love, there are nine types of love. Like companionate love, which is characterised by intimacy and commitment, and simple liking, characterised by just intimacy—”

“Oh, don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. When in reference to this scale, I'm talking about _romantic_ love at the very least—hell, maybe even _consummate_ love. Though, even considering how badly you're lacking self-awareness, I'm not sure how you'd be able to miss the _passion_ aspect of consummate love.” 

Great, Kuroo can _feel_ his cheeks turn scarlet. Okay, so _maybe_ he has thought—briefly!— of what it would be like to kiss his soulmate. But he’s just chalked it up to curiosity. He's never kissed before, after all. He's never wanted to kiss anyone (else) his whole life. But to put it so bluntly… oh, only Yaku would be so audacious as to do something like that.

“Point is,” Yaku says, sounding triumphant when he spots Kuroo’s blush, “you are _hopelessly_ in love with him, you idiot. You think of him when we’re buying food, you thought of him when we went to the mall the other day to buy new sports shoes—you were all like, ‘Oh, Kenma’s shoes are starting to wear out!’ And so you bought a new pair for him, even though you were there originally to buy some for _yourself_.”

“Dude, I _so_ do not sound like that,” Kuroo scoffs, affronted.

“Ah yes, I remember that,” Kai adds amusedly. “You didn't have enough money left to buy yourself a pair afterwards, so you went to practice with worn-out shoes.”

Kuroo throws his hands up, absolutely done with his fellow third-years. “So I don't want Kenma to be running around with worn-out soles, lest he hurt himself. Big deal, sue me.”

Yaku raises his eyebrows, as if to challenge Kuroo. “Then we went to get lunch together, and we were talking about college—literally the _least_ Kenma-related topic—and this guy’s all like, ‘Huh, I wonder how Kenma’s doing. I wonder if he's eaten yet. I wonder if he's beaten that boss level yet.’”

“So friends care about each other,” Kuroo bursts out, exasperated. “So I've always been a nice guy—is that really _that_ big of a deal?”

“Randomly thinking about someone when they're not around is usually an indicator of something more than friendship,” Kai points out diplomatically.

Yaku is not as diplomatic. He rolls his eyes and says, “ _You're_ the one making a big deal out of this. If you'd just admit that you're in love with—”

“Hm, and what about you, Yakkun?” Kuroo interjects with his trademark smirk. “Have _you_ professed _your_ undying love to a certain Russian first-year?”

Yaku scowls at him, but he lets the matter drop at the mention of _his_ soulmate.

Secretly, Kuroo wonders, _Can this be? Has this always been more than platonic?_

(Things are not as Kuroo has always thought they were, and that lack of familiarity unsettles him.)

 

* * *

 

It finally hits him after practice one innocent Friday.

Kuroo stands by the side, downing large gulps of water, as he surveys his team. Fukunaga is busy helping Yamamoto with his cool-down stretches, several first-years are cleaning the floor, and Yaku and Kai are packing away the net.

Then his gaze falls on Kenma, seated cross-legged on the floor and wiping his sweat away with an impressively disgruntled expression. He's perspiring from head to toe, his hair with its dark roots now starting to show is a mess, he's grimacing like he bit into a particularly sour lemon—and Kuroo’s mind just goes, _Oh. I love him._

And that's it. No fanfare, no trumpets, no shooting stars. He's still in his high school gym, and he's still sticky and sweaty and smelly from volleyball practice. He also realises there's no difference in how he's feeling towards Kenma. The sudden realisation doesn't change anything at all.

He still thinks Kenma is the most perfect person he has ever met.

“Kenma-san! Kenma-san!” Haiba Lev bounds over to Kenma like an oversized and overly excited puppy. “Toss for me, please! I think I've gotten a hang of the timing now!”

“No,” Kenma says flatly, scooting away from the Russian giant. “Ask Teshiro.”

Lev pouts. “Aww, please, Kenma-san? I wanna practise with you ‘cause you're the starting setter! Please, just five tosses!”

Kenma glares up at him.

“Fine, fine, three tosses,” Lev amends.

“Oi Lev,” Yamamoto calls over from where he's stretching on the floor. “Stop bothering Kenma, man, or the captain’s not gonna be happy. He's _scary_ when he gets protective of Kenma.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Lev chirps. “It’s not like I'm hitting on Kenma-san or anything! I know Captain-san and Kenma-san are already in love with each other. I just want someone to toss for me! Besides, I already have Yaku-senpai!”

And Kuroo drops his water bottle. It sprays water everywhere all around it, getting on his shoes, but right now he can't be bothered.

Because— _what the fuck?_

Words fail Kuroo right this moment, so he's left gaping silently at Lev who's now looking around with a tad bit more awkwardness now.

“What—did I get something wrong?” Lev asks worriedly. “They _are_ soulmates, right? Like, the lovey-dovey ones.”

Everyone else suddenly finds their nails _very_ interesting to look at as they inch away from said pair of soulmates and the clueless first-year responsible for the sudden tension and awkwardness palpable in the gym. Kuroo chances a glance at Kenma, but a blond curtain blocks his face from view.

Well, fuck. It’s one thing for Kuroo himself to have that epiphany just moments ago, but it’s _another thing entirely_ for Lev to just blurt it out like it’s an order at a restaurant. Or something like that. Kuroo doesn't know, okay, he's flustered and embarrassed and he would really like to crawl into a ditch now so excuse him if his simile game isn't that strong today.

But he's the Captain, so he can't show any weakness.

“Yaku,” he drawls as indifferently as he can manage. “Would you be a dear and take Lev aside for some, ah, _special training_ for a while?”

“I'm not your wife, Kuroo,” Yaku grumbles. “Oi, first-year! Get your ass over here! Since you've still got so much energy left, go do some diving receives!”

Once Yaku disappears off with Lev, Kuroo turns to his team and says with a forced smirk, “Well, that was a fun slice and a half. Who wants ice cream? Captain’s treat.” He waves his wallet tantalisingly.

Normally, his teammates would absolutely _pounce_ on the opportunity to help him slim his wallet down.

But today is not a ‘normal’ situation, by any definition of the word.

“Thanks, Captain, but I have to attend my cousin’s bridal shower!”

“Sorry, I need to babysit my neighbour’s kid.”

“I'm grounded, so I gotta go be, um, grounded!”

“I, er—I gotta go meet my soulmate!”

“You haven't even met your soulmate yet, Tora,” Kenma points out.

“Well, maybe she's out there, just waiting for me to come and sweep her off her beautiful feet!” Yamamoto yells over his shoulder as he makes a speedy exit.

And just like that, it’s just Kuroo and Kenma now.

“Would you look at that?” Kuroo says in an attempt to diffuse the awkward atmosphere lingering even after Lev left. “My wallet will live to see another day.”

“I'm tired. Let's go home,” Kenma yawns adorably.

Something about the way he says that sends a warm jolt right through Kuroo. Now that he's had his love epiphany, he's interpreting everything with rosier and more romantic lenses, so what Kenma said sounds _very_ sweet and domestic to him. He is practically swooning inside.

Throughout the journey back to their apartment building, Kuroo keeps up small talk, smoothly transitioning between topics when he runs out of things to talk about for one. Kenma mostly responds with hums and noncommittal mumbles. It doesn't bother Kuroo; he just needs something, anything, to occupy the silence. If he allows silence to prevail, the awkward atmosphere in the gym earlier would pervade the familiar peaceful bubble he has created with his usual mindless chatter.

Kenma’s parents are out, celebrating their wedding anniversary, so it goes without saying that Kenma comes over to Kuroo’s for dinner. Both their parents have made it abundantly clear that the other is always welcome at their respective homes as long as they refrain from consummating their relationship until they're legal. Kuroo never took the last part seriously until he realises how deep and far his feelings for Kenma go, and suddenly he's glad (but also kinda irked) for the open-doors rule their parents have imposed on them.

They dump their stuff in Kuroo’s bedroom before heading off to take a shower—separately, obviously. Kenma takes the guest bathroom while Kuroo borrows the shower in the master bedroom.

Well, shit. The shower is always where Kuroo does all his over-thinking. And over-thinking is what he does while he showers.

They can't keep going like this, he decides. For the past hour as they travelled from their school to ~~their~~ Kuroo’s place, they managed to avoid talking about the events that had transpired in the gym. But that was just an hour. They still have forever ahead of them. How _should_ he address this issue?

As he wanders back into his room, drying his messy hair off, he comes up with a million and one ways to address the elephant in the room. He supposes he can start by reminiscing on their past—fond memories are safe territory, right? Then he can smoothly segue into the whole “in love” business. He's always been good at transitioning from one topic to another without making it seem too abrupt. Or maybe he can ask Kenma what he thinks about their, er, relationship. Or another alternative would be to—

“You don't have to walk on eggshells around me, Kuro.”

And Kuroo has to do a double-take, because—

“Wha—you, you're wearing my shirt,” he chokes out. His face feels like it might just burn off his skull like lava. Or something. None of his cognitive functions are working, because Kenma looks unfairly good in one of _his_ shirts. As Kuroo is a fair bit taller and broader than Kenma the sleeves of the red T-shirt, which normally cover Kuroo’s biceps snugly, fall to the crooks of Kenma’s elbows. And the hem—good lord, the _hem_. Not helping matters is that Kenma is wearing his own shorts, which reach somewhere around mid-thigh, so if he moves a certain way, the shirt would end up covering his shorts, and—whoa, that is _so_ a train of thought Kuroo definitely shouldn't be indulging in anytime soon. “I mean, not that I _mind_ , you're welcome to steal my clothes any time you want to—but, you keep plenty of spare clothes here. Why—why wear _my_ shirt?”

Kenma shrugs nonchalantly. “Oversized shirts are just more comfortable.”

Oh boy. Oh boy oh boy oh boy.

 _Keep a hold on yourself, Tetsu,_ he reminds himself.

“Anyway,” Kenma says, getting up from Kuroo’s bed to walk over to Kuroo (whoa, he's actually taking the initiative to  _approach_ someone?). “You don't have to walk on eggshells around me or beat around the bush.”

“Huh?” Kuroo replies intelligently.

“You've been acting weird ever since practice ended. You don't have to. I understand.”

“You—huh? Understand what?”

“What Lev said,” Kenma says simply. “I don't know why you and everyone were making such a big deal. I've always known. It’s always been you, Kuro.”

Kuroo’s brain must be made of mush right now, ‘cause he really doesn't get anything that's going on. “Al-always me? But—wait, are you saying—”

Kenma rolls his eyes. “God, you can be so dense sometimes, Kuro. I've always known that we love each other, like, more than friends. It’s always been like that, hasn't it?”

It still feels like Kenma’s words are completely flying over Kuroo’s head, nothing processing properly. “Hold up, so you mean—you're saying, you… you _love_ me?” Sue him if his brain isn't capable of processing basic words like this. He just had that realisation about his feelings towards Kenma about, like, an hour ago, and now _this?_ There are so many emotions welling up inside him, he can't tell up from down, left from right, black from white, and it might just consume him entirely.

Kenma’s lips quirk slightly. “I stayed on the team for you, didn't I?”

Kuroo buries his face into his hands, just so he can hide how burning red it must be. “What the—why didn't you _say_ so earlier? My god, all this time, and…”

Kenma shrugs again. “I thought I didn't need to. I thought it was already established all along without either of us actually saying it — what we are, I mean. Besides," he adds with a barely-there smile, "it was pretty entertaining to see how long and to what extent you would stay clueless to both my feelings and your own feelings."

"What the—you know what, I'm just gonna ignore the last part. So…” Thankfully, Kuroo's brain is finally starting to work again. “So you're saying _you_ knew that I've loved you all along?”

“Please don't tell me I knew before _you_ did.” Kenma takes in Kuroo’s sheepish expression, and he rolls his (gorgeous, intelligent, breathtaking) golden eyes. “Good grief, Kuro, you're _hopeless_.”

“Well, that, and yours,” Kuroo replies, feeling his usual je-ne-sais-quoi returning to him. He laughs when he sees Kenma’s affronted expression he only uses when he's annoyed by a particularly cheesy thing Kuroo said. His eyes dip a little lower from Kenma’s eyes, somewhere down to his lips. And he's overtaken by this need, this burning _desire,_ to do what he should've done a long time ago. “Say, would it be cool if I, like, kissed you right now? I mean, if it’s not cool, that’s cool too. Everything would still be nice and dandy and— _mmph!_ ”

Kenma’s hand wraps around the back of Kuroo’s neck, pulling him down to let Kenma kiss him right smack on the lips. A full-on explosion of adrenaline races through Kuroo, and he feels rather like an exposed wire, electrified and hypersensitive everywhere and bursting at the seams with raw desire, and—good lord—is it even legal to _want_ someone this badly? (He's sure as hell the fact that Kenma is wearing _his_ shirt is contributing to this ridiculous, consuming desire.)

Kenma’s just barely pulling away when Kuroo wraps his arms around his midriff to tug him back against him. He leans down to steal another kiss, and another, and yet another, because he desperately wants— _needs_ —to make up for lost time.

But, he wonders as he’s kissing his soulmate with a fervent, unrestrained passion, is it _really_ lost time? It’s always been Kenma. It’s always been the two of them. It’s not like they're going anywhere anytime soon.

They still have forever ahead of them, so he figures they can afford to take it one step at a time, just as they always have.

**Author's Note:**

> so I meant to write a BokuAka soulmates!au one-shot based on [my tumblr post](https://hqissodelicate.tumblr.com/post/180269093117/bokuaka-soulmates-au), but I suddenly conceived an idea for a KuroKen soulmates!au so I had to write it before I forgot about it. just like my other fics, about 75% of this was written by the seat of my pants. 
> 
> anyway, happy belated birthday, Kuroo. this is my very late contribution to our beloved scheming captain’s birthday. <3 
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> [check out my tumblr :D](https://hqissodelicate.tumblr.com/)


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